Screams and Heartbeats
by BundlesofThoughts
Summary: Katniss and Peeta have both been taken by the captiol. They have been promised freedom, so long as they follow the rules of Snow's newest game that involves selling them to strangers. In the constantly changing society leading up to a revolution, how will Katniss and Peeta cope with being used soely as slaves for their bodies?
1. Chapter 1

The thump of a guard from the next room over. The steady drip of a leaky pipe above my head. The constant humming of the air conditioner, fueling temperature change to the entire facility. The occasional shriek or whine from the next cell over. All sounds I have become too familiar with over the past few weeks.

While there is little to do in the damp cage that is my cell, I am hardly able to sleep. The nightmares and memories that clog my slumber are far worse than my conscious state. It is the unknown that plagues my mind, the constant questions. Why if my tracker was taken out did I still get caught? Where is Peeta? Is he in twelve with my family? Do they miss me? Will I ever see any of them again in my lifetime?

In the amount of time I have been locked down here, I have seen very few things. The bars of the cell as well as the cement pavement that surrounds me. This has been accompanied with the frightened face of Johanna and the whitewashed peacekeepers who occasionally bring us only the necessary amount of food to survive. Often I am brought out of my cell to sit in a padded room across from an intense looking man who asks me questions about the rebel cause and my involvement in what occurred in the arena. I answer the same questions each time, yet they still continue to question my loyalty. I suppose they think that the woman who began this all has to be involved in it's continuance. It is because of this reason that it is not surprising to be led, with bound hands, out of another padded room with a table.

I step into the room and instantly notice the pungent and almost stale smell of the room, as if it has been sealed off from the world for a long time. The guard lightly shoves me into the room and shuts the door behind me. I walk to the table and take a seat, noticing the other seat across the table as well as on on the end of the table, totaling to three chairs. I find this odd but do not think much of it as I settle my boney hips into the chair and prepare myself to deal with the same interrogator and answer the same questions again.

Nothing could prepare me for who enters the door.

I hear the door creak open and do not bother to meet the eyes of my opponent. It is not until I hear the door shut followed by my name being gasped that I glance up. My steeling and tired eyes are met with an electric blue that I know all too well. Startled I snap my eyes shut, determined that I must be dreaming. Peeta can't be here, Haymitch got him out first. He went along with my plan and Peeta is safely back home in twelve baking to his heart's content.

A noise that sounds almost like a cry escapes my lips, as I reopen my eyes and find the blonde haired boy to remain across from me. He is much thinner and has deep circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. Does he suffer similar nightmares?

In that moment, I want nothing more than to stand and embrace him and my body, having a mind of it's own while dealing with Peeta, jolts from the cool metal of the chair and races over to him. In an instant I feel a weight fall off my shoulders as his arms engulf me.

Peeta is alive.

The minute the thought enters my brain, I am bombarded by all of the grief that Peeta is here at the capitol with me, also facing potential torture and death. I shove the thought from my brain and choke out a single sentence, muffled through his worn shirt.

"H-how are you here?" I ask, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes.

"When the force field blew up around the arena, they pulled me out and brought me here. For the past while, I have been in a cell with Finnick being questioned. I thought you were dead. I thought snow killed you for what you did. I thought.."

The creak of the metal door opening behind us stops him mid-sentence as we scatter to the back of the room, still clutching the other tight. Behind the heavy metal door, a white figure emerges in a well tailored suit. President Snow himself walks in, smiling that coy and haunting grin. Out of fear, I press tighter into Peeta, smelling the experience he has been through radiating off his poor body.

"Well I see the two of you have become acquainted. Even time apart cannot quell the connection of two lovers" he remarks snidely, motioning for the two seats. Neither Peeta nor myself more, we simply watch as Snow walks toward us.

"Fine, if the two of you are not going to pleasant, I'll make this blunt. I am giving you two options on how to proceed further in this situation. One is much more pleasant than the other, those both require some, baggage, you could say."

I choose to look at Peeta who glances at me, mirroring the look of disdain mixed with question I am feeling. What deals is Snow trying to make this time?

"What do you want us to do?" I ask, trying to steady the nervous quiver in my throat. The observant man smiles, feeling a sort of accomplishment over my fear. I hate that I have grown to be this weak in my minimal time down here.

"Well, as I am sure you have noticed, you have recently been questioned regarding the involvement in the rebel forces. As we have successfully managed to stomp out any thoughts of war, it is unnecessary to pursue this from you. Due to this, I am willing to give you two options for freedom." Snow pauses, taking out a small hankerchief and slowly wiping it across his lips. He examines it intently and then repockets it before continuing on.

"As you know I am a fair man. I take care of those who do well in their roles to please me and my people. It is because of this that I offer you this suggestion. The capitol and it's people are on edge at the moment, speak of a war brought unrest to the society. In order to distract from these negative ideas, I need to create a distraction. What better way to keep people preoccupied than to focus on the star-crossed lovers relationship."

"You want us to go back to pretending to be engaged then? Try and fool everyone into thinking that we've reclaimed our love that was strained through the games?" Peeta says in disbelief. He moves slightly forward so that he stands almost directly across from Snow. From where I stand, I can see the challenge between the two men, both taunting the other to make a move.

"What I am suggesting goes a bit beyond that, I am proposing the idea of being sold. You two are young and very beautiful. The people of the capitol have not seen this in many a years. If you agree to this, you will remain here as guests. I will treat you well and your families will never be harmed. However, if you do not, the other will be tortured."

"You think you can blackmail us into being your sex slaves?" I shriek. The thought of strangers hand on my body makes my skin crawl. What is this sick idea?

"If you think of it that way, it is already to late to make the deal. However, I am sure that your families in district twelve would like to stay in their homes. It would sure be a shame for them to find bombs falling from the sky all because of your selfish actions."

"This is unbelievable. We're not property!" Peeta gasps. I move closer to him, gripping his pant leg to keep him from exploding. The anger is mixed with fear and concern. We both know that the other will do whatever it takes to protect our families from harm.

"Actually you are. Ever since your names were drawn from that glass bowl you have been mine. From every declaration of love to arrows fired, I owned them. If you would like to save each other and your loved ones, I recommend you take the deal."

"I-how…" Peeta starts, but I cut him off.

"Let us go together." I mumble out.

"What!" Peeta gasps in shock and terror.

"If you really want to sell the idea of our love, sell us, not one. We can be a package deal and get you twice the amount of money. If you agree to this, I promise you I will remain loyal. I won't try to run, I'll do as you say. You just must keep up your end of the bargain as well." I plead to Snow.

I see the twinkle in his eye as the idea runs through his mind. He runs a hand through his slicked back white hair and purses his lips in thought.

A single beat pass he and walks from the room. I look at Peeta startled and feel a wave of fear wash over me. I've done it, I said the wrong thing and now he is planning how best to kill me, or worse, Peeta. My breath hitches and I reach for Peeta.

"Peeta, I-I'm sorry. I tried my best-" I start. As I reach toward him, more guards burst into the room. I scream and I am grabbed by the arm and torn away. We walk down the hall again and I am thrown into my cell once more.

This time, it is my cries that fill the room.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake I feel the fogginess that usually hints at the use of drugs. My mouth is dry, as if it has not been used for days, and my eyes squint as I attempt to open them against the brightness of the room.

Wait, brightness?

My eyes now fly open, shocked by the immense change of lighting, and I am surprised to find myself lying in a large, clean bed. My body goes rigid as I sit upright in bed, wiggling my toes through the stiff, yet plush, white sheets. Across from where I sit I can see a large fireplace with flames flickering behind the metal gate, by the I venture that it is electric. A few feet there is a door that I assume leads to the bathroom and I manage to lift myself, still groggy from whatever substances are running through my system, to walk into it.

Once inside, I find an abundantly large tiled room with intricate mosaic across the walls. On the far side from where I stand, I see a dual sized shower complete with waterfall heads similar to what I experienced during both games. There are shelves on the wall stocked with shampoos, conditioners, lotions, creams, and butters enough to wash half of the seam back home. Next to where I stand, there is a large vanity with lights lining the gigantic mirror as well as drawers which, upon further examination, are also piled full with any possible necessities.

I make my way over to the somewhat plain toilet and park myself onto into, confused as to how I went from thinking I was dead to being here. I rise slowly, and walk to the sink to wash my hands with the ridiculously scented soap that the capitol has supplied for me. I bring them to my nose to smell...roses.

I shudder and exit the room, wishing to explore more of the foreign place I am in. Once outside the bathroom I am met with the same room but am now able to notice the large set of french doors to the side of the bed. Instantly I am drawn to them and walk over, I reach for the door handle but find it locked, yet I stand there breathless at the image of the outside world.

I stand there for what seems like hours, but must only be a mere seconds and turn away. I feel as if I am a caged animal only able to balk at the world I long to be a part of, no matter how broken it currently may be.

After a deep breath, I venture to the other side of the room to find a large dresser complete with a mirror. Next to it lies a door I guess to be the closet and open it curiously. I assumed correctly as I am met by the large array of clothing that lines the room. In the middle there is a round ottoman and there are clothes on either side of the room. Far in front of me there are shoes in drawers as well as undergarments, but what really peaks my interest is a door that lies next to it. I try the handle and find it unlocked.

Cautiously I venture in and am met by automatic lights that reveal a vast amount of costumes. All of which, are fairly revealing. Slightly appalled I walk around the perimeter, running my hands over the varying materials. A sailor consisting of a tiny skirt and a matching tie mini shirt with a deep v-neck, a neon yellow thong with a bright pink shirt that goes off one shoulder, a pair of lacy boyshorts and patching lavender pasties. I immediately drop the fabric, shocked but intrigued, and bolt from the room. I race through the bedroom and find myself in a hallway with deep mahogany wood floors.

I slam the door to the bedroom and stalk in the opposite direction, hoping to find somewhere that will make me slightly less claustrophobic. Once out of the hallway, I enter a large room. Toward the back I see a kitchen and dining area, but immediately in front of me is a living room. Upon walking further in, I glance back and find a large flat screen and plush couches and chairs surrounding it. Underneath a glass coffee table that stands in front of the seating, is a delicately detailed white rug. While glancing over I spot a stack of magazines and I loosely pick one us out of morbid curiosity. I open it up to find pictures of women standing in alluring outfits and men fanning out after them.

I am surprised by this and set them back on the table, slowly turning away to see what else this place has in store for me. To the left of the living area is another large window, two chairs garnishing the little alcove area. Just beyond that I can see a modern looking dining area complete with a chandelier as well as a luxury kitchen. Once I am drawn to the plastered white, subway tiled area, I notice another jut out with bar stools and cabinets of alcohol. Walking over, I find them all to be locked and sigh realizing that Snow has outsmarted me once more.

He's taken away another possible method of suicide.

Exasperated, I move to the sitting area and take a seat on the chair looking aimlessly out at the city below. From this height it is too far to make out any distinct features, yet I can still see the movement of people walking and cars traveling. The skyscrapers line the edges of my vision and if I squint just beyond I think I can make out the sealine, but it's too far to tell for sure.

...

"Katniss-Katniss wake up!" I am shaken awake from my unintentional slumber. Blinking in confusion, my confused mind begins to process the frail figure of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in front of me.

"P-Peeta?" I ask shakily. "What-how are you here?" I am stunned. Why am I not alone, what is Snow playing at now?

"I woke up a little bit ago and was explore, then I found you here. I think Snow put us here, I think he's, um, going through with his plan" Peeta states, blushing out of anger and embarrassment.

My mind flashes me back to the interrogation room, the last time I see Peeta and the image of Snows malicious grin haunts my conversation that ended with so much uncertainty now leaves a pit deep in my stomach. But, I swallow it down. He is not here, right now it is just me and Peeta. We need to take this time and relish in it.

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't" I respond dryly. "Either way, we are probably going to end up dead."

I see the look of pain and astonishment roll across the boys face. How I hate that look.

"Whatever he plans to do" I start, "he's not going to do it tonight. We should take this time and use it wisely. Come, let's make dinner." I grab Peeta's hand and drag him to the large kitchen. Glancing back at him I can see the excitement in his eyes, how he would love to cook in this area.

"But Katniss, I don't really see the point in playing their game with them. We said we were done with that."

"Shhh, stop. Right now, we're not playing any game. We are just two people who live together, making dinner to enjoy." I hope he can see the pleading in my eyes. "We can pretend that we are in any situation other than this, pretend this thing between us isn't so complicated and fucked up. If we try, than maybe this whole ordeal won't be so miserable. Maybe we can actually look at it with a positive note" my voice quivers on the last word.

I have not looked up from the floor but my steely eyes now make their way up, slowly sliding vertically to meet his eyes. They stop for a moment, locking on my own hands, which until this point I had not realized were clutching Peeta's quite this desperately. They continue and sink into line with his blue orbs, instantly breaking my heart at how sad they look. He blinks and I see the shift in his expression.

He looks down suddenly and gives my shaking hands a gentle squeeze,

"Are you feeling like chicken or pasta tonight" he asks quirkily, shooting me a sad smile.

"Whichever is going to dull this ache I have to shoot Snow the fastest" I remark, shooting a daring look back in his direction which gains a breathy snort in response.

"Pasta it is."


	3. Chapter 3

Thirteen days. It has been thirteen days, or at least what we assume to be days based on our view from the penthouse, since we woke up in this place.

As the days dragged on, we created a sort of routine that was established and readily changed as we assume something will occur soon. They can't just be allowing us to live here peacefully and without the control of the capitol much longer than we have been. Any minute I am sure a peacekeeper will burst through the door proclaiming orders from Snow. Those order may just be the thing I have feared since waking in this apartment.

Since today is the morning we wake up marking our thirteenth day, the usual rhythm Peeta and I have perfected begins as usual. I come to consciousness before Peeta and lay wrapped in his arms, blissfully waiting for him to wake. I usually take this time to think about any and all aspects of our situation. It is in fact during this time that I reach the conclusion that whatever happens is going to happen anyway, so I should just roll with it for a while until we figure a way out safely. No matter what I have to protect Peeta, I couldn't lose him again.

Once I feel his breathing change, we lie there silently, both waiting for the other to break the unspoken rule of one pretending to wake the other up. It is usually I who does this, rousing us from the trance and forcing the rest of our day to get started.

From there we eat, wash, talk, and sleep.

The system works as well as it can, especially since there is so little known about what we are going through. Perhaps this is why we go on this way. Neither of us bring up what will happen if Snow decides to come and the other never presses the matter. We go along with the plan and pretend to be ignorant to the growing problems outside our glass cage. That is at least, until day fourteen.

I can tell the first difference when I am actually startled awake by Peeta getting out of bed in the morning. I roll toward where he moved, the sun shining through the french doors causing me to shield my eyes as I try to see what is going on. Through the light, I can make out a hunched silhouette of Peeta securing on his prosthetic. He then stands and makes his way to the bathroom before walking out of the room, not even glancing back at my bewildered self sitting upright on our bed.

"Peeta?" I call after him concerned. When there is no answer I lightly lift myself from the bed and make my way to the hall. After a quick glance I can verify that he is not in the living area and make my way into his room only to find the light on in his closet. Puzzled I venture forward, pausing before entering with caution.

His closet is set up mirroring mine and I walk silently to the doorway leading to intimates to find him standing and stroking the material of a costume.

"Peeta?" I try again, attempting to snap him out of the trance he is in. "Are you okay?"

He slowly turns his head to me, registers my face and drops the garment embarrassed. "Sorry, I was just, thinking." I nod in a sort of sad understanding and walk over to him. I run my hand up his arms gently and sigh.

"We've been here two weeks, without any interruption. We both know that this won't last forever and I think it might be time to start considering other options," I say quietly.

"Other options?" He asks in disbelief, the voice hoarse and barely audible. I grasp his hand and squeeze it tightly pulling him from the room despite the dead weight he becomes.

"Come," I command, prompting him to follow me. He gives in and slowly shuffles behind me slowly as I lead him into the hallway. "There," I urge, pointing to a door on the far side of way. It is uniform to the rest of the doors inside of the apartment yet something about it is different.I have eyed it several times before questioning it, yet never had I been so brave as to open it. Perhaps due to the fear of what lies on the other side.

Today, I am determined though. I wish to find answers and stop this limbo we are in, despite the wonderful break from reality it has been. I stop Peeta in front of the door and he looks at me with a fearful and questioning stare.

"N-no, no Katniss," he starts " we don't know what is on the other side. It could be a room full of peacekeepers, or Snow."

"But what if it's not, Snow wouldn't put it here unless it were meant to be opened. It's a test and we are supposed to discover it for ourselves."

"But, if it's a test from Snow why would we want to give him that sick satisfaction. It's not right, and he doesn't deserve it" Peeta growls.

"Hey, it's just something we have to discover, together. We can't just stay here and play house for the rest of our lives, there are real problems out there that need our attention. If we don't take this step, there isn't a sliver of hope for anyone else." I urge, longing for him to go along with my pleas.

I look at him, searching those blue ponds for his reaction to this. He lets out a slow breath, closes his eyes, and slowly begins to nod his head. I slowly reach for the door handle and I see his visibly flinch when I make contact with the cool metal knob. I look to him and he nods again before I begin to turn it. Finding it unlocked, I push it open to find a mirror image of our hallway.

"What?" Peeta gasps out, not believing what he sees. "What kind of game is this, does someone live here?" I only shrug before slowly venturing forward into the adjoining apartment. "Katniss...don't-" I look back, flying my finger to my lips.

I continue my walk, journeying further in and glancing around in question trying to take in every aspect of my surroundings. There is the two sets of doors that I can see currently are the same as mine. In the distance I can make out a kitchen, yet it doesn't look exactly the same as ours and the wall colors are a deep blue opposed to the red hues of my own. As I continue to walk into the room, Peeta follows, pressed tightly to my back as if we are still in the games.

As I walk past the doors I open the one to the right and peer in. It, like the rest of the house is set up the same as mine and from what I can see, including the door leading to the bathroom and what I assume is a closet. I re-close the door to that bedroom and turn to Peeta, only to find that it is not Peeta standing beside me any longer.

The man is dirty blonde and very muscular, and much taller than Peeta is. He turns to face me and I gasp in shock. "Finnick? Oh my God, how are you here?" He laughs and throws his arms around me, encircling me in a comfortable embrace.

"Katniss! You're alive?" He asks exasperated. Peeta comes back into the hallway from the shouting and I watch as his expression changes from anger to surprise. "Peeta's here too?" He asks, clapping Peeta on the back grinning widely. The exchange between the two is endearing and I feel a sting as the reality of what's going on crashes around me.

Is he here for the same reason? Is everything they said about him true? If it is, it only makes the threat hanging over our heads even more real. This must be present on my face because as Peeta looks to me his smiles diminishes into more of a grimace. His eyes suddenly look so much more tired and sad. Finnick also seems to realise this as he adds to the mood.

"I assuming you're not really here by choice." His conclusion is confirmed by the expression on our faces. "Snow threatened your families didn't he?"

Peeta simply nods and I move closer to him instinctively feeling his pain. The worst part is not knowing, understanding that there is nothing we can do to help.

"Johanna's here too, she's out right now though. Duty calls," his voice trails off at the end leaving an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. Duty? She's already being used? "I normally would be, but most of my requests come at night. Fancy dinners, parties, personal visits."

"I'm sorry," I start unable to decide what I should say next. He just shrugs and scratches his bronze head in thought.

"I do what I have to do in order to keep those I love safe. If I do this, Annie stays out of harm." His voice which was previously unmoving in pitch, rises a bit at the end.

It goes without saying, yet we all decide to stop the conversation knowing there is no true outcome we like. Finnick spends the remainder of the day trying to avoid the overbearing capitol presence. Peeta cooks, we discuss light subjects, and when Johanna get's home we drink.

This is the first taste of real hard liquor I've experienced, the slightly burn as it cascades down my throat is odd yet not unpleasant. After a couple shots of the liquid we are all acting quite out of it and Peeta and I eventually make our ways back to our room.

Once we stumble in, I drunkenly struggle to get out of my clothes to no avail. Peeta, who must also be exhausted has already flopped onto the bed but I pry nonetheless.

"Peeta, can you help me?" I hear my shrill voice cry out? He sleepily raises the arm that was resting over his eyes and squints at me through the darkness. I hear his sigh and he slowly lifts himself off the mattress. What wouldn't he do for me?

He walks over and gently lifts my shirt over my head, unaffected by me standing in only a bra before him. "Aren't you capable of taking your own pants off?" He asks half amused. I let out a sigh matching his and go for the button. Once unzipped I try to remove my leg, but stumble backwards, landing on the bed behind me.

Peeta lets out a snort and responds "clearly not" in a muttered breathy voice. He comes to where I lay and starts pulling the ankles of my jeans free as well until I am left there in only my undergarments. I lift myself up and become acutely aware of how close we truly are. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, I pull it over his head and take in the slopes and valleys made by his muscles. How soft his skin looks, pulled tight over his chest. He unbuckles his pants and slides out of them, steps out and the looks back to me.

I blush on instinct and he immediately looks away embarrassed. "I can go to my room if you would like-" he starts before I cut him off.

"No! Don't be ridiculous, you always end up in here anyway." I say, trying to sound coy yet my voice trembles. What is wrong with me? This is Peeta. I watch as he runs a hand through his golden curls and he seems to give in as he moves to the otherside of the bed. I follow suit and instinctively fold into the crease of his arm as we always sleep.

But tonight something is different. Tonight, I can feel the heat.


End file.
